THVS 16

Chapter 16

Making sure the other servants wouldn’t notice, I knocked on the door and asked again.
“Layla, am I not allowed in either?”

“……T‑Tien?”

Her voice was clearly different from the one that had been transmitted through the artifact.
There was a faint tremor in it, as if she were a little flustered.

When I signaled with my eyes, the butler quickly caught on and took the sword I was holding.
“Open the door.”

In an instant, the magical power spread across the wall by the artifact vanished.
The tightly shut door slowly opened, and Layla—visibly thinner—peeked her face out.
Her watery, pale‑blue eyes shook violently.

“May I come in?”

At her nod, her cotton‑candy‑soft hair fluttered gently.
As I stepped inside, a chill washed over me—the curtains blocked the windows so completely that not a ray of light could enter.
I drew the curtains aside and threw the window wide open.
Fresh air began to fill the room.

Perching by the window, I spoke to Layla in a casual tone.
“I was waiting. Why didn’t you come?”

“……I’m sorry, Tien.”

She answered with her head bowed low, the corners of her eyes red.
They were swollen so badly I couldn’t even guess how many times she’d cried. One look and they seemed painfully sore.

“What are you sorry for?”
“……I should’ve come to you first.”
“So what if you didn’t? And why are you so down? Whatever happened to Layla Arvid who dumped wine all over Charviel’s clothes?”

I’d known Layla for twenty years now, so being familiar with her was only natural.
Still, the bold Layla from the banquet hall was the one I preferred.
For Layla’s own sake, she needed to be stronger.

“I like how you were back then.”
“……Tien.”
“It’s fine even without magical power. So stop crying, Layla.”

I could see it on her face—she must have agonized dozens of times over what to say to me.
What kind of comfort would help? How could she ease even a little of the sense of loss?
That expression was unmistakably full of worry.

Honestly…

For some reason, the calm, indifferent faces of my family suddenly came to mind.
At the oddly reversed reaction, I let out a small laugh inwardly.
There was no way I could dislike someone worrying about me so sincerely.

Was this how Tien Elópez from the original story had felt?
I’d thought it was a foolish choice, but now, very faintly, I could understand why the original Tien had gone so far to protect Layla.

“Contractor.”

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the demon’s voice—the one that had thoroughly ruined the original Tien—rang out, instantly souring my mood.

I don’t want to hear your voice right now, so get lost, Bael.

Normally, he pretended it was hard to even transmit his voice whenever Layla was around.
So why had he decided to show up now?

“If it weren’t for the potion, I’d have vanished long ago. Weak as he is, that human is unpleasant just by existing.”

‘…….’

One of the conditions I’d set in my contract with Bael was this:
If anything threatened Layla’s safety, he was to inform me immediately.

Ordinary people who didn’t possess holy power could barely sense it at all.
No matter how much magical power I had, I couldn’t distinguish it either.
That was why I’d made it a condition—Bael, a demon, was more sensitive than anyone to holy power, which stood in direct opposition to his own.

But for Bael, who hated even approaching Layla and recoiled at the slightest proximity, to speak so freely meant—

“That human has almost no holy power left in his body.”

For a split second, I nearly twisted my face completely, forgetting Layla was right in front of me.

…What?

Almost no holy power?

That was impossible.
Layla—the Saintess—possessed more holy power than any other being.
Unless she deliberately poured it out—

“Layla.”

When I opened my arms, Layla hurried forward and embraced me.
The distance between us closed, and at that moment, the residual magical power lingering in the artifact vanished completely.
Only then did I notice the dozens of different kinds of magic embedded throughout Layla’s body.

Layla… what on earth did they do to you…?

The air was pleasant, the weather bright.
Even though the breeze brushing past my face was refreshing, I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

It had already been two hours since I returned to the Elópez estate.

“……Contractor.”

I’d come straight to the laboratory and sat there with a hardened expression for some time when Bael, in the middle of materializing, cautiously called out to me.
As I slowly lifted my lowered head, even the bell on the cat seemed to be watching my mood.

“Looking at your expression, it’s hard to tell whether I’m the demon or you are.”
“……”
“At least get angry or something.”

…Normally, I would have.
Layla still hadn’t told me where she’d gone.
She probably thought I wouldn’t know.

She must have assumed that even if countless traces of magic clung to her body, I—having lost my magic—wouldn’t be able to notice.
That was why she’d dared to step into the Mage Tower.

“I told her countless times not to go to the Mage Tower.”

Instantly receiving various kinds of magic that didn’t belong to you was extremely dangerous.
As I’d said before, everyone’s body contains magic.
And the foundation of that magic is the magic core.

Depending on the size of that core, a person’s talent as a mage becomes apparent.
Ordinary people have very small magic cores.
The amount of magic a body can withstand is determined by the size of that core.

Pouring excessive magic into a non‑mage was like sending an electric current the human body couldn’t endure.

And Layla was even more problematic because she manifested holy power.

You can’t possess holy power and magic at the same time.

In short, Layla had no magic core at all.
So aside from the magic used in artifacts, she needed to avoid contact with pure magic as much as possible.
Even more than ordinary people, Layla’s body couldn’t accept magic.

“Knowing all that, she still…”

My teeth ground together inside my mouth.
Even so, I didn’t loosen my clenched jaw.

Bastards—I could chew them up and still not be satisfied.

To the mages of the Mage Tower, Layla—a bearer of holy power—was an incredibly valuable test subject.
Most such people rarely left the temple, so chances to interact with them were scarce.
On top of that, relations between the temple and the Mage Tower were poor, so there was no way they’d willingly become experimental subjects for mages.

In that situation, Layla walking in was practically a stroke of luck.
Experiments they’d never once been able to try—there was no way the mages would refuse.

Layla couldn’t possibly not know that. I’d warned her dozens—no, hundreds—of times.
She must have gone despite knowing.
And in exchange for offering her body as a test subject, she must have said this:

Find a way to recover the magic that was taken from me.

…There’s no such way.

If there were, the original Tien wouldn’t have so easily resigned himself to death.

“Contractor, calm down.”
“……”
“Weren’t you pretending you’d lost your magic? I’m suppressing it, but the magic leaking out of you is far too strong.”

…Ah.

I’d forgotten for a moment, overwhelmed by my anger over Layla.
Drawing back the magic spread around me, I slowly steadied my breathing.
I pressed my thumb against my throbbing temple a few times and spoke quietly.

“Should I just erase everything?”

“……”

Bael, who normally would have rambled on about conquering the world, was unusually silent.
He seemed to sense I was serious and merely watched me cautiously.

“Haa…”

Barely restraining the rage that kept threatening to burst out, I roughly swept the hair falling over my forehead back.
When I stood up, Bael stammered in panic.

“Y‑You’re not seriously going to… erase everything, are you, Contractor?”
“They need to pay the price.”

My anger was enough to make my vision swim, yet my mind was colder than expected.
As he looked at me, my expression neatly composed, Bael muttered softly.

“You look like you’re about to kill someone.”